


The teaspoon girl

by Lomeniel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anxiety, F/M, Fluff, Pining, Sadness, Swearing, puking, spider - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 22:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomeniel/pseuds/Lomeniel
Summary: A witch turns Y/N into a teaspoon sized woman, and Sam and Dean has to make sure she doesn't get squashed - and find a cure.





	1. The spell

It wasn’t planned. The day had started out pretty good: chirping birds had woken Y/N gently after the first proper night in what seemed forever. After the failure that was the previous hunt; where a small miscalculation had ended with one dead victim and another one paralysed from the neck down, she’d been sleeping even less than usual. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the accusatory face and snapped neck.

Needless to say, she didn’t feel too good about herself, even though Sam and Dean insisted they were all to blame. If only she had double checked, or run just a little bit faster…

But this day – it was as if nature was determined to make her forgive herself. So after a good night, the morning greeted her with a scene worthy of a Disney classic. Singing birds and a gorgeous sunrise, paired with a perfect cup of coffee and a glimpse of Sam’s behind as he got out of bed: yeah, this was staring out as a promising day.

So when Y/N found herself restrained to the floor with a cackling witch standing over her, she didn’t know what to make of it. After all, Sam had been right behind her, she was certain of it, but when the witch appeared, he was nowhere to be found. The fight that followed was intense, but short, and ended with Y/N in a not particularly flattering position on the floor: bruised both in body and pride.

Fortunately it didn’t take long before the locked door behind the witch rattled, and Sam’s voice came through, muted and drowned, but still livid. It was only a matter of time before he picked the lock.

With a wave of her hand, the door shivered, and Sam cursed on the other side. Y/N heard him speak to his brother, and then the door shook. Wood splintered, and the door groaned – it wouldn’t hold up much longer.

The witch laughed despite knowing she would be dead in a matter of seconds. “Don’t feel too tall now, do you?” she asked Y/N with a flash of wickedness in her eyes. Sam was still working on the door: it rattled and cracked. He’d be through it soon.

“Fortunately for you,” the witch continued, “I don’t have the time to whip up a good killing curse. But that doesn’t mean I won’t go out with a bang.”

Just as the door splintered and crashed to the floor, she grabbed an old bowl off the table, whispered over it and flung the chunky contents right in Y/N’s face. A shot rang through the room, and the witch sank down.

Feeling increasingly dizzy, and counting her blessings that she was already sitting down, Y/N looked up to see Sam standing in the doorway, leaning on the biggest axe she’d ever seen, with Dean pointing his gun over Sam’s shoulder. “Heh, never seen that one in the trunk,” she offered feebly. “Lumberjack Sam. I like.”

“Ding dong, the witch is dead,” Dean sang before spotting the slimy concoction slowly dripping off Y/N’s upper body. “Ew.”

Sam said nothing. He was scowling, eyes dark and face serious. If Y/N wasn’t already feeling like a failure, she would’ve cowered from the sight. He crossed the room in four long strides, loosened the restraints around her arms and helped her up. All still without a word.

Without a grimace, he looked her in the face – not even wincing from the disgusting spell – and asked in a tone low and hard: “You okay?”

Y/N nodded. There was nothing else she could do; feeling slightly wobbly, but otherwise fine.

The relief that washed over Sam was so clear. It almost radiated from every inch of him: his face relaxed, his shoulders dropped, but then his posture changed. Drawing to his full height, he squared up and glared at her. “What the hell were you thinking?” His voice, still low and hard, sent tremors of regret and embarrassment through Y/N. He had every right to be angry: she had screwed up everything. 

Every fear and worry came tumbling out of his mouth, in form of carefully placed anger. She could’ve been killed, should’ve waited for them, shouldn’t have gone in alone. With every word Y/N recoiled, sinking down, trying to make herself invisible. Of all the things she’d had to endure in her short and miserable life, taking Sam’s rage was the most painful, and his cold, calculated fury was so much worse than if he had been screaming. At least then she could have convinced herself that he was being irrational. But now she was forced to realize that he was right. Sam was always right. Y/N was useless.

As Sam finished his rant, Y/N’s eyes rolled back into her head, and his intestines seemed to try to hide on the other side of his spine. He grabbed her just in time to feel her go completely limp and collapse like a discarded sock, and gently lowered her back down on the floor.   
Cradling her in his arms, he softly called her name, begging her to open her eyes and talk to him, yell at him for being a dick, anything, just live! 

The room seemed as if it was coming alive. The air buzzed and thickened, it pulsated against their bodies.

Dean knelt down and pressed two fingers to her throat. “Well, good news is she’s not dead. Bad news –“ he raised his eyebrows at his brother and smacked the back of his head. “ – what the fuck? You don’t go around yelling at someone who’s just been hit with god knows what substance. No matter how scared you are. And…”

Sam tried to speak, but Dean held up his hand to stop him. “…losing your cool like that? Come on! You’re supposed to be a professional. When did you forget how to check for a pulse?”

The buzzing grew louder, and as if that wasn’t ominous enough, Y/N started to glow. Yup. Straight up shining like the butt of a firefly. The Winchesters looked from her to each other, not knowing what to do. Whatever this witch had done, it was bad, and she probably deserved to die again for it.

Then suddenly the buzzing stopped. The silence was overpowering after the intense wall of sound, but they didn’t get many seconds to savour the sensation. The light faded from Y/N, and Sam was left with two empty hands.

The shock pushed the last tears from his eyes, and he stared at his hands, stupidly turning them upside down. “What the…? Where’d she go?” He waved his hands in the air over the floor, checking that there wasn’t an invisible Y/N lying on the ground, though he already knew that wasn’t the case: all weight had disappeared too. Looking up at his brother, he found no consolation there. Dean was just as confused.

“You think she teleported somewhere?” he offered, rubbing his eyes gently. It wasn’t likely, but weirder things had happened.

A tiny object on the floor caught Sam’s eye. Just a doll, but… he bent down to pick it up. It was warm and floppy, and… yeah. This was definitely on the weirder edge of the spectrum.

Coming closer, Dean squinted at the thing in Sam’s hand. “Is that…?”

“Uh-huh.”


	2. Calm down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N wakes from the spell, only to discover that Sam and Dean has turned into giants. Or have they?

Sam picked her up and held her in his hand. Barely ten centimetres long, she weighed no more than a small cookie. He shuddered. How was he going to do this without squeezing her to death? Surely she would be crushed in his giant hands. Gently, he turned her over. She was completely still, but limp, her hair spreading out over his fingers: there were no signs that this was a grown, living woman. Except of course the fact that she had a pulse, and was warm to the touch.

“She’s… tiny!”

Sam rolled his eyes, despite wanting to scream and yell and shake her awake. “Yes, thank you for that, Captain Obvious.”

Lifting his hands in the air, Dean took a step backwards. “Jeez. Sorry, didn’t mean to step on your toes or anything.”

“Sorry,” Sam sighed. “It’s just… this is… freaking me out.”

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll figure this out. We always do.” Dean put his arm around Sam’s shoulder – it was a surprisingly affectionate gesture, but he knew how Sam felt for Y/N, and he just couldn’t bring himself to tease him about it.

Smiling sadly, Sam sniffed and held Y/N to his chest, as if he was scared of dropping her. “Thanks.” After a brief pause, his features hardened, confidence returning. “We find a cure.” There he was: Sam – always the practical one. Carrying Y/N gingerly in his hands, he left the Dean behind. “Oh, and bring the bowl,” he added over his shoulder.

 

She was so tiny Sam almost didn’t dare touch her for fear of squashing the delicate, albeit grimy, little body. No longer than the palm of his hand, she looked even more like a doll than before. 

“Dude! She’s not made of glass,” Dean said, patting Sam on the shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, Sam replied: “I know that, but her bones are so small they’d probably snap if I breathe too hard on them. And if I drop her…” He shuddered, but still lowered his shoulder: he hadn’t been aware of how tense he was.

Placing her gently on the seat in the Impala, he swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to help her, but his first priority was to clean up the mess. They could worry about Y/N when the witch was buried.

Two hours later, sweating from digging faster than strictly necessary in the hot sun, not wanting to leave Y/N alone for too long, Sam yanked the door to the Impala open. She hadn’t moved an inch, but she somehow felt healthier than before. That could be related to the fact that the spell had dried, and didn’t smell so… fresh anymore.

Out in the cool air, her eyes began to flutter. Sam’s heart pounded in his chest. Her waking up was better than he had hoped for. Soft groaning and twitching tickled his hand. “Sweet Jesus… Motherfucker!” Y/N’s eyes flew open, and she clutched her head. “Damn witches. Always with their – HOLY SHIT!!!” She finally registered her surroundings, and looking up into Sam’s giant face nearly gave her a heart attack. Then Dean peered over his shoulder, and she screamed.

“Relax,” Sam began when she drew breath to scream louder. His voice boomed through her: the sound waves alone could’ve knocked her over if she hadn’t already been sitting down. On something soft and warm and… leathery… She looked down, and a thousand thoughts went through her mind all at once, but none of them added up to what was happening. She opened her mouth to scream again, but the only sound that came out was a short squeak, as her view was blocked by an enormous finger.

“Yeah, you gotta calm down,” Dean pitched in, grinning with relief to see her awake again.

“Calm down? CALM DOWN??? You calm down!” She yelled, pushing Sam’s finger out of the way, using it to hoist herself to her feet; chest heaving with the exertion. “You’ve gone and… and turned into giants! How the hell are you gonna go unnoticed? This is gonna take me ages to solve, and where do you suppose you’ll hide until then, huh?” She slammed her hands to her hips and scowled like an old-fashioned headmistress. “And ugh!!! I stink!”

“That you do,” Dean snickered. “But, uh, sweetheart, you’re –“

“Don’t you sweetheart me. This is a serious problem, Dean, and –“

“We’re not giants,” Sam blurted, giving her a humourless smile.

“What?”

“Yeah, that was what I was trying to tell you – gently,” Dean continued, sending Sam an annoyed glare. “You’ve gone and turned into a miniature Y/N. Like, really, really… small. A bonsai Y/N.” He measured with his hands and didn’t stop until they almost touched.

“Nuh-uh. That ain’t right!” Y/N shook her head and craned her neck to look into Sam’s eyes. “Put me down, please.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. There’s bugs bigger than you around here.”

“Just do it.”

“But…”

“Sam!”

He finally gave in, and set her, very carefully, down on the roof of the car before stepping away to reveal the rest of the world. She stood still for a moment, then started laughing hysterically. The laugh got quieter and quieter until it faded into soft sobs.

Both Winchesters bent down, sympathy heavy in their worried faces. “Don’t worry,” Dean said with a careful smile. “We’ll fix this, right Sammy?”

Sam nodded and put his hand back on the roof, palm up. “We will. Come on. Let’s get out of this dump.”

Y/N climbed into his hand and held on tightly to his thumb when he lifted her up, sniffing and trying her best to remain calm.

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Dean added with a wink. “At least you got out of cleaning up duty.”

Being left alone in the car while Sam and Dean gathered their stuff and packed the trunk was a strange affair. The Impala felt too large, too foreign… too empty. The vast space both over and under her made her dizzy, so she lay down on her back. If only Dean had left some music on. The silence was pressing down on her like a massive balloon inflating to fill the entire car, and it was way too far to jump from the edge of the seat to the radio. Maybe she could climb?

She arched her back to get a good look at her options. It wouldn’t be impossible to do, but the sheer distance… she’d spend a week just reaching the dashboard. She dropped back, flipping over on her stomach. Lying face down on the leather calmed her down. The world might be bigger, but at least the smell of home hadn’t changed, and when she closed her eyes, she could pretend that everything was normal.

 

Back on the road, Y/N inhaled the familiar, sharp scent of gas and oil and leather, feeling that at least some of her world righted itself. Still, she beat herself up mentally for being so stupid she got caught – and cursed, no less, but the steady rumble from the engine and Dean’s usual post-hunt tape, lulled her into a comfortable bubble. 

It was an all-new experience, sitting in the Impala like that; between Sam and Dean, almost drowning in the scent from the well-worn seats. She sighed. It sucked being tiny, but on the bright side (she had to focus on the bright side, right?) she got to ride in the front, and sit next to Sam.

Then, suddenly everything happened so fast. She had no time to react at all. Dean swore and stomped on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt, sending everything that wasn’t securely fastened flying forward: including Y/N. Sam tried to grab her, but missed, and his hand hit the seat with a loud slap.

She tumbled out of the seat, and though her fall was somewhat cushioned by Sam’s jeans and shoe, her ears rang from the impact. Groaning, she rolled over on her stomach to push herself up, but she couldn’t. Something glued her to the floor.

“Shit, you okay?” Dean asked, breathing hard. “Goddamn deer! Don’t they know the traffic rules?”

“Don’t think they know traffic,” Sam chuckled.

“Uh, guys? A little help?” Still on the floor, Y/N struggled to get to her feet, becoming more and more stuck in whatever glue she had landed in. 

The shadow of Sam’s hand surrounded her, and her stomach gave a tiny jolt in panic. Her head was still stuck to the floor, and so he yanked one more time. This time she came free, along with a big lump of something. “Eww! What is it?” She cringed as Sam began to unstick her.

“Looks like… a piece of melted candy,” Sam replied, shaking his hand out the window. “Think I got it all out.”

“What do we do now?” Dean wondered, scratching behind his ear.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you can’t sit in the seat. You could seriously hurt yourself the next time. We don’t have the skill to fix tiny doll humans, and how do you explain you condition to a doctor, exactly?”

Y/N rubbed her eyes. “Then what do you suggest we do? I’m too small to strap in a baby seat.”

Dean thought for a second, then looked like he’d found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. “You can ride in Sam’s pocket. You’ll be safe, I don’t have to worry about crushing you… it’s a win-win situation.”

That was the best idea Y/N had heard in a long time, and if she wasn’t so hell-bent on keeping a crush a secret, she might have high-fived Dean.


	3. The bog of eternal stench

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is sent on a mission to find something not-smelly for Y/N to wear.

The ride back to the motel was surreal. Sam plopped Y/N into his chest pocket without second thought, and she’d spent the rest of the drive trying not to think about how insanely close she was to him. 

After the initial shock had settled, and her heart had calmed down, she felt more comfortable than she’d ever done before, curling into a ball at the bottom of the pocket. The shirt was so soft, and the heat from Sam’s chest seeped through the fabric, and though the temperature was already high outside, she would never have traded with anyone. Though she had to ask him to remove the snapped tooth pick and gum wrapper to sit comfortably.

 

Once the motor rumble died down, and a gust of chilly air filled the car, Y/N poked her head over the top. She had to stand on her toes to reach, resting her chin on the folded seam. They were back at the motel. Y/N nodded satisfied to herself. Finally she could get out of those horrible clothes and take a shower.

Sam put Y/N down on the table before he almost fell down on the bed and tugged his boots off. “Phew, my feet stinks,” he muttered, scrunching up his face. “I refuse to leave this motel without changing my socks.”

Y/N sniffed herself and retched. “Hrrrk! You’re not the only one who smells. I fucking reek of… I don’t even want to know what! Goddamn witches and their goddamn fluids!” She shuddered, trying hard not to think about what disgusting horrors she’d been hit with, and was about to ask Sam to carry her to her bag when suddenly her face fell. “MotherFUCKER!”

Both Winchesters stopped in their tracks. “What’s wrong?” Sam immediately leaned forward, his shoulders almost touched his ears.

“I don’t have any clothes that fit me now,” Y/N replied with a voice filled with despair. “I’m gonna go around smelling like the inside of a used coffin until we fix this.” She tugged on her shirt and grimaced.

“Just wash them,” Dean said with a mischievous smile.

“What, and hop around naked? No thank you.” Both of them had seen her without clothes on several occasions, but never fully naked, and that was not an encouraging thought. Especially now, when nothing was as it was supposed to be. She glanced around the room. “Nothing here is small enough to not bury me completely. There’s not even a doily…”

“Um…” Sam began hesitantly. “I think I know how to fix that. There’s a toy store in town. They’re bound to sell doll clothes, right? And you’re just a little bit smaller than a Barbie, so I think that’ll…”

“Hmm… yeah, that could work,” Y/N said, relieved to see a solution, even though it was a small one.

Dean chuckled; “You do know your way around Barbies, don’t you, Sammy?”

“Screw you, jerk.”

“Just sayin’, bitch.” Dean turned back to Y/N. “In the mean time, you can wear this.” He tossed a black lump at her.

“What’s this?” Fiddling a little to untangle it from itself, it took a few seconds to see what it was. “EW! Dean! I’m not wearing your smelly, old sock.”

“Why not?” he grinned, “there’s already a hole on the toe for your head. Just cut a couple of holes for your arms, and you’re golden.”

She pinched her nose and held the sock at an arms length, which unfortunately wasn’t far enough to escape the buttery odour of sweat and toes. “I’ll keep my clothes, thank you very much.” 

After dropping the disgusting thing, she came closer to the edge of the table and peered over. “Jesus. It’s far down…”

“Yeah, please don’t try to climb,” Sam said with a big smile. “Let Dean know if you need anything; I’ll be back in a few.”

“Pie!”

“See ya, Sam,” Y/N replied, waving as he closed the door behind him. “Drive safely,” she added quietly when he was gone, and sat down with her legs crossed.

When Dean came out of the bathroom about thirty minutes later, she’d arranged a small table and chair for herself, stacking a couple of matchboxes on top of each other. Grinning, she showed Dean.

“Aww, you’re adorable!” Dean snorted and patted her head with his index finger.

Y/N almost buckled under the weight. “Watch it, gigantor. And I’m not adorable!”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she snickered, booping her tiny nose very gently. “You’re a fierce and dangerous warrior – OW!” She’d sunk her teeth into his finger: they might be miniscule, but they were still sharp.

“You were saying?” She put her hands on her hips and grinned widely.

Dean was about to argue when Sam came back, so instead he put the finger in his mouth and grimaced to his brother. “She’s all yours.”

Confused, Sam looked from Dean, who was pouting and sucking on his finger, to a defiant Y/N standing on the table. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

Kicking the door shut behind him, he tossed a bag to Dean, who caught it with his uninjured hand. “Pie, like you asked for.” He then emptied the contents of a second bag onto the table next to Y/N. “I’m afraid the selection is limited,” he said when she poked a particularly frilly dress and scrunched her nose. “Sorry.”

“Fuckin’ Barbie,” she muttered, but she picked up a few garments anyway. Her old clothes were so dirty she couldn’t wear them anymore – the stench was becoming unbearable. 

“Turn around,” she instructed, waving her arms in Sam’s direction. He chuckled, but did as she asked. After pulling her filthy shirt over her head, she retched again and trembled violently. “Ugh, I smell like The Bog of Eternal Stench! Oh my god, what’s this? Seriously, Sam?” She’d picked up a sweater with a white and purple unicorn printed on the front.

“Sorry. As I said, limited choice. Wasn’t exactly a huge store. But the lady behind the counter was certain that ‘my daughter would be delighted’,” he replied, fighting to keep his voice straight.


	4. Half a noodle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soup bowl bathtubs, spiders, and beer - oh my! Trying to adjust to her new life, Y/N faces small (and big) problems head on.

When Y/N didn’t say anything else, he took the chance on turning around again. She’d donned the unicorn sweater, and was admiring herself in the reflection on his phone. If he ignored the matted hair and grimy clumps of whatever on her face, she looked adorable. 

“There was more in the bag too,” he said, clearing his throat and swallowing the snort that was building in his chest. Lifting up the heap of clothes, he revealed a small pile of plastic that scattered over the table: a small glass, a set of cutlery, and an ornate hairbrush.

Dean howled with laughter, no longer able to keep it in.

Ignoring him, Y/N examined the items. Sure, they were plastic, but at least she didn’t have to drink out of her hands.

“I’ve got one last surprise,” Sam said, pulling a small packet out of his pocket. “I figured you didn’t want to go around unarmed, so I got this made for you.”

Y/N tore off the paper to reveal a sword fashioned from what looked like a needle.

“It’s silver. Probably won’t do much damage, but -”

“It’s perfect. Thank you!” Y/N hugged him around the wrist.

“I was thinking,” Dean said with a weird expression after he’d calmed down enough o speak. 

“Never a good thing,” Sam muttered just loud enough for Y/N to hear, and she burst out giggling.

Dean shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. This,” he held up a small box, “is probably big enough for you to sleep in. Just tuck in a bit of… I don’t know, a wash cloth or something to make a mattress.”

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” Y/N replied. She recognised it as the gift box she’d used to wrap the book she’d given Sam for his birthday, and a small part of her was ecstatic to sleep in something belonging to him. Another part flailed a bit when she realised he’d kept the box.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed with an awkward cough. “Just gotta empty out all the shit I keep in it.” He grabbed the box and practically leapt over to his bag and turned it upside down.

Dean being Dean snickered and stretched his neck to see, but Sam shielded the contents with his body.

“Ooh… What’cha keepin’ in there, Sammy?” Dean sang.

“Just… stuff,” Sam said, trying to keep his cool, but he felt heat creeping across his face. He had filled the box with small trinkets and mementos; a pressed flower and a crumpled paper with addresses to interesting shops, the polaroid that he’d taken of Y/N that sunny day in the park, a couple of ticket stubs from the case with the theatre – she’d been so excited to finally see Shakespeare on stage, even if that particular stage had turned out to be haunted, the sea shell that glinted when he turned it against the light – he had plans for that sea shell, and Dean was not going to spoil them, and finally: the friendship bracelets Y/N had braided when she was sick and stuck in the motel while Sam and Dean finished the job. They were just made for fun, and he suspected she’d wanted to throw them away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Let me see,” Dean continued, but Sam zipped up the bag too fast.

“No.” He took a deep breath before turning back around. “Here, you can use this as a blanket if you want.” He dropped a piece of patterned fabric on the table.  
It was a silk handkerchief he’d used once, when they had had to pose as snotty, rich people for a case.

Blinking a couple of times, Y/N smiled up at him. “Thank you. I’m sure it’ll be great.” She picked it up and rubbed her face on it. It was so soft, and still smelled faintly of that cologne Sam used when they had to dress up. Yeah, it would work fine, though when she thought about it, she realised that she might not get much sleep after all.

“Gonna put the box, sorry, bed on the bedside table for you,” Dean said. “So you feel safer at night.”

Not quite knowing how to respond, Y/N put up and exaggerated look of awe. “So you do know how to be sweet?”

Dean scoffed. “Sometimes. When the situation calls for it. Shut up.” He pretended to be annoyed, but the smile never left his face, and it warmed Y/N’s heart.

“Right, now that that’s done,” Sam interrupted, “maybe you want to… uh, take a bath? I mean, you do kinda stink. Bad!”

“Thought you’d never bring it up,” Dean laughed, pinching his nose and scrunching his face up.

Ignoring Dean again, Y/N lit up. “Yes! But… how? I’m too small to use the shower.”

Sam winked and shuffled over to the small kitchenette corner. “Don’t worry. I had an idea while driving back from the shop.” Grabbing a soup bowl and a handful of matchboxes, he returned to pick up Y/N, who willingly let him carry her to the bathroom.

There he set up a makeshift tub for her, filling the bowl with hot water before adding a couple of drops of shower gel, stirring it with his finger to make bubbles. Then he stuck the matchboxes together like a ladder. To top it off, he cut up a clean washcloth to make a towel. “Voila.”

“Awesome. Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem. Just holler if you need anything.” He smiled and left her alone, but he also left the door slightly ajar so he could hear her. 

Just after she’d lowered herself into the water, Dean poked his head through the door. “I’m gonna get dinner. What’cha want?”

“Where you goin’? The diner up at the – ? OK, I’ll have a cheeseburger,” Y/N replied with a thoughtful look when Dean nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” Sam’s voice was muted through the wall.

Y/N grinned. “And beer!” she added enthusiastically.

Sam appeared behind his brother. “Um, I think…” he began, “when you’re so little… You’ll get alcohol poisoning.”

Pouting, she slid down in the water, crossing her arms over her chest. “Fine. Bring me a coke.” When Dean was out of the door, she muttered: “Can’t wait to be big again.”

Sam gave her a smile filled with sympathy. “I’m sure we’ll get you back in no time. With Dean’s creativity and my research, combined with your intelligence, you’ll get back to your beer before you know it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” With that he left her alone again.

 

It would be impossible to keep eye contact after this. Y/N swore to herself and tried again just for good measure. No chance. The wall was too steep, too smooth to scale. She had no other options.

“Sam!” she called as loudly as she could. “A little help, please?”

It didn’t take long for the bathroom door to open fully and Sam’s hairy head to poke through. When he couldn’t see her, he stepped all the way into the room. “Y/N?”

“Down here,” she replied, trying hard to restrain the burning embarrassment. Sam had seen her naked before, she told herself, well, parts of her anyway. In life or death situations. Never like this. Okay, so maybe the embarrassment wasn’t totally uncalled for.

Sam bent over the sink, but quickly drew back when he realised she had no clothes on. Not sure what to do, he tossed her a piece of the cut washcloth. “What happened?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.

“The bowl slid into the sink.” That was obvious, wasn’t it? Wrapping the cloth around herself and hoisting it like it was a glamorous dress, she made a tiny noise to let him know she was decent. “Help, I’ve fallen and can’t get up?” It was a lame joke for sure, but anything to relieve some of the heavy tension that suddenly filled the room.

“Good one,” Sam chuckled and held out his hand. When he closed it around her, she couldn’t help herself: it was so warm and gentle, the sweet smell so uniquely Sam, that she leaned in, and rubbed her forehead against his hand like a kitten.

He put her down on the edge of the sink, and turned around so she could get dressed, then carried her back into the room, leaving her on the table while he took a shower too. 

 

“AAAH! Shit! Go away! Shitshitshitshit!!!”

Y/N’s frantic voice startled Sam and he skidded out of the bathroom to see what was wrong. Imagining all the horrible things that could go wrong, he almost sprinted over to the small table, clutching a towel around his waist and soapy hair flopping in every direction, ready to rescue Y/N from danger, only to find her standing over a dark lump with hairy legs that now curled inwards on the dead body. Her needle-sword had pierced right through the lump.

“Spider,” she said with a shrug, not taking her eyes from her slain foe. “Never thought much about them before, but now…” She shuddered and pulled her sword from the creature. The spider’s legs twitched, but fortunately it remained dead.

Sam let out a sigh of relief, happy that there was no real danger, making Y/N look up. She squeaked and turned bright red, before looking away very pointedly. “Y-you go back and, uh, finish your shower. I’ll just… stay here and…” Her voice dwindled into an incoherent mumble, and she refused to look up until she heard the bathroom door close again.

Shortly after, he came back, this time fully dressed, wet hair clinging to his cheekbones. His stomach growled and Y/N’s answered in kind, and they grinned at each other when the roar from the Impala’s engine filled the room.

The door slammed when Dean kicked it closed, his hands full of food. “Sorry, no burger. Italian night at the diner tonight.”

Y/N clapped her hands and squealed. “Pasta! My favourite!”

“Only the best for our little doll princess,” Dean said, nodding to the bright pink sweater she wore. It was adorned with a glittering crown over her chest.  
Y/N was too busy sniffing the food to reply, but soon her face fell. “You only bought two…”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, I figured you only eat like half a noodle anyway, so…” He cut off a piece of one of the plastic lids and rounded it a bit. Then, after emptying the contents of the boxes onto plates, he turned one of them upside down and put Y/N’s new plate on it.

She sat down on an upturned spoon, and watched as he meticulously cut a spaghetti noodle into pieces and added a drop of meat sauce. 

The food was delicious, but it felt like an oddly insufficient meal. She wanted more, but was full after just one small noodle.

After dinner, Dean went out, claiming he was going to check out the local library, and Sam brought out his laptop. Y/N perched in Sam’s pocket, hoping she could at least contribute a little. Maybe pick up some small detail he missed, or just provide some company.

Not even thirty minutes later, Dean came back, hauling himself through the door, looking dispirited and more than a little irritated. “This damn tiny town doesn’t even have a library,” he answered to Sam’s unspoken question. “Or a bar… This place sucks. Gimme a beer. ”

 

The next morning was a slow one. The research had brought nothing, and the sun burning through the window made them all drowsy. By midday even Sam had stopped looking for a cure, and started mindlessly scrolling through the internet instead.

Suddenly, he grinned and stretched his back. “Dean!” Sam lifted his laptop and waved it around while he spoke. 

Peeking around the door, Dean grinned with his toothbrush still in his mouth. “Yo!”

“Found us a new case,” Sam began, showing the screen to his brother and Y/N. “At least I think it’s our kinda weird. By the sound of it, I’m thinking poltergeists. It’s not too far away – AND they have a public library. Looks like it’s not too small either. Whaddaya say, huh?”

Y/N stretched and rolled her shoulders, trying to pull the itch out of her skin. The doll clothes weren’t nearly as comfortable as her own. “I’m game. Anything’s better than sitting cooped up in here. We might as well do something useful while we search for a cure.” She gestured to herself and didn’t mention that the thought of riding in Sam’s pocket again went straight to her gut and made her feel intoxicated.

Sam nodded in agreement, making no show of his excitement over being so close to Y/N again, even though she was still small enough to fit snugly in the palm of his hand.

“Alright. You two finish packing, I’ll bring up the car,” Dean said, wiping his face with a towel. He snatched the car keys from the table and almost skipped out the door.

“Hey!” Sam yelled after him, “I’m not doing all the work – you’re a slob on the road, Dean, I’m not packing your gross shit all alone – no offence, Y/N,” he added after a small pause.

“None taken,” she replied, but the heavy stone that settled in her stomach said otherwise. Or, she thought to herself as she collected her own, tiny belongings and threw them on her bed-box, it was more of a pebble really.

“Y/N? You okay?” Dean asked when he got back and found her fiddling the velcro on the pink Barbie duffle bag.

“Mhm…” she hummed, summoning her best neutral face. “Just eager to get on the road and leave this godforsaken town behind.” She handed him the bag and muttered under her breath: “Fucking witches.”

If Dean heard it, he didn’t comment on it.

Half an hour later they were cruising down the highway. Dean was – as always – happy to be on the road in his beloved car again: humming to the music and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

Sam dozed with his head against the cool window, smiling in his sleep from the warm bundle lying comfortably in his front pocket.

And Y/N, well, she was drunk on Sam’s scent, and had to concentrate hard not to grab him too much through the thin fabric.

 

“Ugh! It’s hot in here.” Y/N had all reason to complain: the sun was frying through the open window, and the breeze didn’t reach Sam’s pocket at all. She popped her head over the edge and glared at Dean who resembled a laughing Bond villain. 

“Sorry,” Sam said and held out his hand for her to climb into. “There’s no air condition in my shirt, unfortunately.” He kept her in his hands for a while, absentmindedly stroking his thumb over her back and constantly checking if she was okay.

Dean slowed down the car. Not by much, but enough that Sam noticed. “What’s wrong?”

“Not sure which exit…” He squinted out over the landscape: everything looked identical for miles, just huge fields of corn and wheat, sometimes interrupted by narrow side roads.

“Hang on, let me get Google maps,” Sam replied and dropped Y/N on his shoulder before fishing the phone out of his jeans. “Um… looks like you take the next left turn …”

Y/N didn’t hear the rest of the conversation: she was surrounded by Sam’s glorious mane, and was having a moment. Several, actually, and looking back she imagined she probably looked like a cat that was too stoned on catnip to move.

When Sam finally moved to lift her down again, she swatted his hand away. “I can see EVERYTHING!” she marvelled, trying to take in every sight at once. From his shoulder she could see the road ahead and the fields outside, and the sky and the clouds and the sun and the birds playing on the air. Even the roadkill.   
Using a handful of soft hair as support, she sat down and dangled her legs over the edge. “Holy shit!” Her awe made them chuckle.

“You… um, you wanna stay up there?” Sam turned his face to get a look at her.

“Please,” she nodded back. “If it’s not too annoying.”

“Not at all. Just let me know when you want down.”

With her whispered okay, Dean stole a sideways glance of the two of them. He said nothing, but his previous mischievous expression softened into a gentle smile.

 

Y/N nearly toppled backwards as her eyes slid shut, but thanks to Sam’s reflexes, she was caught and placed gently back into his pocket. Cuddling against his chest, clutching the shirt fabric in her arms, she soon drifted off to a peaceful sleep.

The sun had already set, leaving the indigo sky littered with tiny, twinkling stars. The air was cool and silent, and nothing could be heard except the steady rumble from the Impala.

“You should get some rest,” Dean murmured, almost not wanting to disturb the peaceful night. “I’m good to drive for a while yet, and you need your energy if we’re gonna find a cure.” He didn’t have to elaborate, just nod at Sam’s pocket.

“Alright.” Sam yawned and leaned against the door, careful not to jostle Y/N too much. “Wake me up when it’s my time.” He gave a weak wave in the direction of the steering wheel and closed his eyes, sleeping within seconds: the warmth and weight in his pocket weirdly calming him down. It had only been a few days, but he knew he would miss having Y/N so close all the time.

Dean didn’t wake Sam until he pulled into the motel parking lot, and after a quick meal (again, fragments of food for Y/N), Sam and Dean leaned back in their seats. It was one of those evenings where time seemed to stand still, and they could forget about their lives for a moment. 

Clinking their bottles together, Sam grinned. “Tomorrow’s gonna bring good news,” he said with a sigh. “I just know it.”

After watching Dean take a large gulp from his bottle, Y/N smacked her lips and shot her bottom lip out, whining as pathetically as she possibly could.  
“It’s not safe,” Sam said, but there was pity in his eyes.

Dean nodded, then stopped himself. “I have an idea. Gimme the glass,” he said, taking the cap from the coke bottle and filled it with beer. Then he dipped Y/N’s minute glass into it.

“You’re an angel,” Y/N chirped, lighting up from the prospect of drinking something stronger than soda and making grabby hands at the glass. “The nice kind,” she added quickly when Dean gave her the look.

After two small glasses of beer, Y/N had almost forgotten her… challenges, laughing at all of Sam’s horrible jokes and singing along to Dean’s music that he claimed was classics.

Sam couldn’t help but laugh along, she really was a happy and adorable drunk, but he was wary of how fast the alcohol affected her. “I think you’ve had enough,” he said when Y/N had drained her third glass.

“Aw, Sammy, you’re no fun,” she muttered before suddenly getting to her feet and patting the back of his hand. Leaning on his thumb for support, she drew herself up and started climbing his hand. It was harder than she expected, with virtually nothing to hold on to, but she finally got up and wobbled over his knuckles, before sprinting over the hand and almost launching herself at his shirt.

Pulling herself up the arm by the sleeve, she giggled quietly as if she was doing something she shouldn’t, missing Sam’s look of utter incredulity.

Dean stared at Sam, and Sam stared at Dean. “Um, Y/N, sweetheart, what are you doing?” Dean asked.

Leaning back to look at him like Spiderman, she failed horribly at winking and snorted loudly. “Shhh…” she whisper-yelled. “I’m climbing Sam, can’t you see? Always wanted to – how can I not, I mean look at ‘im,” she continued, slurring slightly. “Mmm… just… muscles, y’know. And…”

She was interrupted by Sam, who surprisingly had turned the shade of a very ripe beetroot. “Y/N, you’re drunk,” he said, gently lifting her off his arm – she’d reached his elbow, and was trying to scramble over a fold in the fabric without falling down – and put her back on the table, where she promptly plopped down on her butt and groaned. 

“Hey! Put me back! I’m trying to… I’m gonna… I wanna…” She grinned widely and blew him a loud kiss.

“You’re drunk,” Sam repeated.

“No, I’m not. You’re drunk. I’m… I’m –“ Shutting up abruptly, her eyes darted around frantically. “Bucket!” she mouthed, and then threw up all over herself.


	5. Shrinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/N is still shrinking, and everything goes south.

A wet washcloth slapped down on the table, followed by a loud laugh that definitely belonged to Dean. The light hurt in Y/N’s eyes, and she felt increasingly dizzy, but being covered in vomit made nothing better, so she embraced the gesture – even with the laugh.

After wiping her face and discarding her trousers and the sweater, she felt much better. The cool air on her skin slowed the spinning room down to a manageable speed, and she dared to look up.

Dean was grinning, looking like he wanted to laugh so bad, but lacked the courage to do so. Sam was watching her intensely, and suddenly she felt extremely exposed, wearing only a t-shirt and a pair of ill-fitting panties. His gaze was scrutinising, but when she made no signs to keel over, he relaxed a bit, and finally he smiled. “Time to put you to bed, huh?” he said, holding out his hand.

Y/N smiled back, feeling a surge of drunken courage. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Sorry to break it to you, Sammy, but I’m a classy lady. You have to take me out on at least one date first.” With a satisfied grin, she climbed into his hand and let him carry her to the bed.

“Says the girl who just now tried to climb my brother,” Dean chuckled.

“Be nice,” Sam replied with a small, sideways smile. “She’s drunk.”

“Yeah, be nice,” Y/N echoed as Sam tucked the handkerchief around her. “She’s dr – hey! I’m not drunk. You’re drunk.”

“Whatever you say, precious,” Sam finished and turned off the night-light.

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and she slept peacefully, only waking twice from a shadow looming over her, and the rest of the evening passed with hushed conversations and flickering light from Sam’s laptop screen.

The pain that rolled over Y/N when she woke up the next day was out of this universe. Every fibre in her body protested her continued existence.

With massive effort, she sat up in bed and did a short inventory on herself. Head: check, impossible to ignore. Even without the splitting headache, or the fact that her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, feeling like sandpaper dipped in glue. Torso: heart racing, but otherwise okay. Acceptable. Arms and hands: surprisingly sore. What the hell had she been up to? The previous day was nothing more than an alcoholic blur. Legs and feet: both there. That was a relief.

She sighed. “Water,” she muttered, looking around the room. At least she wasn’t alone.

Sam was nowhere to be seen. Probably out on his morning run, but Dean was cleaning his gun by the window, and hearing Y/N’s feeble attempts to communicate, he looked up from his work. “She lives! How you feelin’, tiny? Ready to go climbing today?”

She frowned at him and the stupid, bright light slapping her across the eyes. “Like shit. What the hell are you talking about?”

“Like you don’t know,” he laughed, “trying to hit on my brother with your impressive rock climbing skills…”

A vision of fabric and arms and a disappointed face flicked in her brain. “Oh, Jesus, kill me! Kill me now!”

“Nope. It’s too much fun watching you dance around –“

Y/N hissed when Sam strode through the door. He smiled brightly when he saw her. “Morning! How are you feeling?”

Y/N’s face flushed with embarrassment. Or maybe it was arousal; he looked absolutely delicious with his hair clinging to his face, and drops of sweat rolling down his throat. “Horrible. Hey, Sam?”

“Yeah?” 

“I’m… sorry about… last night.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You were drunk. It’s Dean’s fault, really. He shouldn’t have given you alcohol.”

“Hey!”

Y/N grinned. “Yeah, Dean. It’s all your fault!”

“So no harm done,” Sam continued over Dean’s grumbling, holding up a white paper bag. “Breakfast’s in here. Save a sandwich for me.” With a wink, he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Y/N with a spinning head and bright pink ears. 

After breakfast, which turned out much livelier than Y/N had expected, Dean fetched his car keys and the box of fake IDs. He picked one for himself, and tossed the companion piece to Sam.

“Seriously, Dean? Where do you get these stupid names from?”

Sam’s protest was somewhat justified, Y/N thought, when she caught a glimpse of the card. The picture was great, but the name… Special agent Philip Artsville. Didn’t stop her from giggling, though.

When she finally managed to pull a serious face again, Sam had already changed into his FBI getup, and so had Dean. Y/N paused for a moment. “Looking sharp, guys, but how am I gonna fit in those pockets?” The suit was elegant, but the pockets weren’t the largest.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Sam made a series of indecipherable noises before clearing his throat. “Yeah… about that…” He hesitated for just a bit too long. An unpleasant sting settled in Y/N’s stomach, and got even stronger when he looked to Dean for confirmation. “We don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to come with us on this one.”

“What? But…” Never in a million years had she imagined them leaving her behind.

Dean nodded. “Thing is… you’re so small now. If something happens… I don’t have the skills to fix squashed dolls and neither does Sam.”

“Come on! I can’t stay here. I’ll lose my mind! Nothing will happen –“

“You don’t know that. Look, I’m sorry, but the decision is final,” Sam said, looking at her with a mix of sympathy and determination. Y/N stared back with pure frustration in her eyes.

“It’s for the best,” Dean agreed, receiving a cold stare in return. 

“Fuck you,” she spat, trying hard not to burst into tears. “I’m going crazy here and you wanna leave me behind?” She turned on her heel and marched over to her bed-box and climbed in, struggling even more than usual, pulling the handkerchief completely over her head. It felt too big – like she was drowning in the soft fabric.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Sam said, trying to pull the blanket back just to see that she was okay, but she clung to it and almost got lifted off the table. He didn’t get an answer.

“See ya later,” Dean said, and then the door closed. 

Y/N peeked over the edge of the box. The room was empty. Darker than she remembered. She climbed out and padded over to the nightlight. At least the switch was on the base. 

Slowly climbing onto the metal disc, she stopped for a second. It was harder to get up there. Craning her neck, she tried to see if they’d moved her bed without her noticing. No, it was same lamp as before. But it had definitely grown. 

Shaking her head, she threw her leg over the edge and pulled herself up. The switch was harder to push too. Putting all her weight and strength behind the push, she almost toppled over when the switch finally gave and light flooded the table. What the hell? She didn’t have the same problems earlier.

The drop down from the lamp seemed almost daunting now the thought had settled in her mind. Making her way over to the box, she measured herself against it. She couldn’t look over the edge any more. “FUCKING WITCHES!!!!!” she yelled, kicking the matchbox ladder. It didn’t even move, and she sank to her knees, clutching her hair and screaming louder than she had ever screamed before.

Falling quiet, she sat with her back against the box and stared into the room. It was as if it expanded; each wall slowly moved outwards. And it was too quiet. If they’d only left some music on or something. Even crappy daytime TV. But no. Everything about the situation reminded Y/N of how insignificant and useless she was.

Not ready to face this new revelation, she crawled into the bed and sank deep into her little mattress. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, and eventually she fell asleep, having no other means to pass the time.

Sam came back first. He’d left Dean behind at the diner, and gone straight to the motel with a bag of food. At first he was confused when the room was completely silent, with no sign of Y/N, and his stomach fell when he found her exactly where they’d left her that morning.

“Hey,” he said softly, stroking her hair away from her face to wake her. “I’m back. You hungry?”

Rubbing her eyes, she replied with a yawn followed by the tiniest sigh. “Mhm. Where’s Dean?”

The question punched Sam in the gut. Asking for his brother – he didn’t know what to say. He wished that he was the first thing on her mind when she woke up, but if it was Dean… Her heart would be shattered. Dean had never seen her as anything other than family. “He’s… uh… not here.” It was a coward’s solution, choosing not to utter the words that might hurt her.

She smiled. It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Oh, he found himself entertainment for the evening, huh?” Letting out a small laugh, Y/N hauled herself out of the bed and climbed into Sam’s hand. “Good for him. Hope she was pretty.”

Squinting, Sam watched for a heartbreak reaction. There was none. Was the girl Dean had gone home with pretty? He honestly hadn’t noticed. “I guess,” he said, shrugging noncommittally, busying himself with preparing dinner for Y/N.

He put the plate down for her, and pulled up a chair. Y/N was mellower than usual, if mellow was the right word. Somehow all her movements seemed sluggish without the laziness – every time she turned her head it was gentle, a small movement, every step slower, every time she lifted her arms it was… timid: that was the word Sam was looking for. It was as if she tried to be invisible.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, regretting it immediately. The look he received was so lost, so without hope, he could barely stand it.

Y/N drew a short breath and sat down on her spoon. “You mean besides the obvious?” It would’ve been a crisp question had it not been for her voice; just a mist, not really there.

Resisting the urge to scoop her up and cradle her to his chest, Sam settled on leaning on the table instead. The tiny shake almost tipped her over. “We’re working on it,” he offered, knowing it wasn’t enough.

“I know.” It was a short answer, and it broke his heart. Y/N had given up. She looked him in the eyes. “I just… I miss my make-up and my clothes. I miss feeling pretty. And useful.” 

“I know you do,” Sam said in a whisper, and continued: “For what it’s worth I think you’re pretty. And even though you can’t help out physically right now, you bring support and friendship. You keep us company. That’s plenty – ”

“Instead I’m fucking shrinking!” Her voice quivered, and she sniffed, turning away to hide the tears in her eyes.

“Shrinking?” This was bad news. A thousand what ifs raced through Sam’s brain.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I can’t… can’t see over the top of the… the…” She sniffed and got up, dragging her feet behind her until she stood in front of Sam’s outstretched hand, and leaned forward a little, nudging it ever so slightly.

As gently as he could, Sam lifted her up and held her tiny body close to him, stroking her back with his thumb. Soon he felt hot tears trickle down his collarbone, and he rocked back and forth, saying nothing and everything all at once.

After a while Y/N’s sobs quieted, and her shaking body stilled in his hand. Her chest rose and fell evenly, and Sam held her up to look closely at her.

Her face was wet and swollen, and the skin around her eyes was raw and pink, but she looked peaceful for the first time in ages.

Careful not to wake her, he carried her over to the bed and tucked her in, before returning to his laptop, doubling his efforts. 

Dean found Sam lying on top of the covers in his bed. He was fully dressed and sleeping restlessly. The laptop had slid halfway down from his stomach, and the cursed bowl was in his hand. Scattered all over the bed and floor were papers with scribbles, copies of the symbols on the bowl, attempts at translations.

Smiling softly, Dean checked on Y/N before cleaning up the mess and the computer, and carefully moving the bowl so it wouldn’t fall to the floor and shatter.  
Once that was done, he expertly removed Sam’s shoes and coaxed the blanket from under him. “We really need to figure this one out, little brother,” he whispered as he shook the blanket out over Sam. “And then you and Y/N are gonna have a serious talk. Don’t think I haven’t seen through you. Both.”

With a squeeze on Sam’s shoulder, he went to get ready for the night. When he got back after brushing his teeth, Sam had turned over on his side, facing Y/N and stretching a hand towards her.


	6. Pretty dolly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have to find a cure soon, before Y/N disappears completely.

The next morning, Sam skipped his morning run. Instead, he gathered the notes he’d been taking that night and began pouring over them, comparing symbols and tracing new ones, and when Dean woke up, he was already through one pot of coffee, one note pad, and had started on a second one. He muttered to himself, frequently shaking his head, and sighing when he realised he was on the wrong track.

“Morning, Sammy. Sleep well?”

“Morning. No. I gotta figure this out. It’s driving me insane – can’t find anything even remotely similar –“ He took another sip of coffee.

Dean got out of bed and patted Sam’s head. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you, man. Oh, jeez! Did you even shower today?” Backing up a few steps, Dean huffed and grimaced.

“No, why?” Sam didn’t even look up.

 

“Because you stink! I’m not gonna… Go take a shower!”

“But…”

“Just do it, Sam. Y/N’ll wake soon. You don’t want her to die from BO poisoning, do you?

Sam glared at Dean, but he got up and did as he was told.

A couple of minutes later, the box on the bedside table shook, and a hushed curse cut through the sound of the running shower.

“Morning, Y/N,” Dean said. 

“Mrn…” she replied, not ready to face the world yet. Dean was unnaturally chipper, and that made her even grumpier. When she couldn’t throw her leg over the edge of her box, she dropped back on the mattress, and let out a string of profanities so hard that Dean rushed over to see what was wrong.

At first, he couldn’t see her, but when he did, he froze. “Oh shit!”

Giving him a bitchface that rivalled Sam’s, Y/N cocked her head. “You don’t say. Help me out, will you?”

As careful as he could, he picked her up and carried her over to the window table, where she stretched as far as she could. “How bad is it?”

Coughing awkwardly, he measured her against this hand. “You’re not gonna like it.” She was just a little bitt shorter than his thumb, and the t-shirt she wore reached to her knees.

“Just lay it on me.” Her face was set, prepared to anything he could bring.

“Well…” Showing her rough size with his fingers, he gave her a humourless smile, and she stared, trying to take it all in.

“Well, crap.”

Dean nodded, and was about to say something when Sam walked out of the bathroom drying his hair with a towel. He stopped mid-step and blinked a couple of times. “Holy shit!”

“Mhm…” It was the only answer Y/N could think of.

For a few moments, the room was completely still. Y/N stared at Sam, Sam and Dean stared at Y/N, and no one said anything. Then, as if his brain was suddenly shocked to life again, Sam took a deep breath.

“Um, I was thinking,” he began, picking up his note pad and a pen, the towel forgotten on the floor. “This case really is an easy one. Any hunter could do it…”

“…yeah?” Dean said, but he had a hunch where the conversation was leading.

“Yeah, so I’m thinking: what if we call someone to take care of it? We need to, uh, focus on getting Y/N to grow, I mean…” He gestured to Y/N, who felt very exposed and self-conscious on the table.

“You’re right.” With a nod, Dean pulled up his phone and scrolled down. “I’ll make a few calls, see if I can find someone.” With another glance at Y/N, he went outside to get better reception. 

Ten minutes later, he came back inside. “Bad news and good news,” he said with half a sneer. “No one’s close enough to take over right now. Looks like we have to ride this one out. Sorry, Y/N. But the good news is the sheriff called. He might have something for us. Said he had time for us around five.”

Sam stood and grabbed his jacket. “Fine. Let’s go. The faster we can solve this –“

“Please don’t leave me alone again,” Y/N begged, her voice thin and scared. She really didn’t think she could face another day by herself in that goddamn motel room.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam said, beckoning for her to jump into his hand. “You’re part of the team: I’m never leaving you behind again.”

Dean gave him a look that told him that that was a bit much, don’t you think, to which Sam answered with his usual bitchface. Guess not, Dean shrugged and grabbed his suit and headed for the bathroom.

“Thank you, Sam.” Y/N’s voice was still uncertain.

“Don’t worry about it. I feel better when I know you’re okay, you know?” Sam dropped her into his shirt pocket. 

There was a small hole in the seam, just large enough that she could see through it, but not big enough that she could be seen. 

“This is good,” Sam said, looking in the mirror, tying his tie. “But I can’t wear the jacket, I think. You’ll get crushed. God, it feels weird talking to my pocket.”

“Heh… yeah, tell me about it. This whole week’s been weird.”

“We’re gonna figure it out, Y/N,” Sam whispered. She didn’t have an answer to that.

A loud rumble broke through the silence. Y/N and Sam turned to Dean, who shrugged. “I’m hungry. Not ashamed of it.”

“Yeah, I could go for a nice, big breakfast,” Sam said, getting an elated grin in response from his brother.

“I know just the place. Found a, uh, small diner up the road on the way back last night. Sarah – Sally… uh, anyway, she said that, um they have the best pie in the entire state.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s settled then. Breakfast at the diner.” He downed the rest of his coffee, and followed Dean to the car.

 

Sam leapt from the car and almost sprinted over the small parking lot before skidding through the door. “Please. Restroom…?” He waved his arms, not capable of standing still.

The gentleman behind the counter nodded to the door on the left. Sam was gone before he could say a word.

It wasn’t until Sam had finished his business and took a seat across from Dean he realised. “Oh shit, sorry,” he muttered into his pocket. “I didn’t mean to… it was pretty dire…” A soft shade of pink spread over his face.

Y/N giggled quietly. “Don’t worry. Emergency is emergency. Though it’s not an experience I particularly wish to repeat.” Leaning against the pocket wall so she could see up, she drew a deep breath. “I’ve never understood why men’s restrooms stink so much worse than women’s, though. And I don’t really want to think too much about it.”

“Shouldn’t have had so much coffee,” Dean added with a grin.

“Shut up!”

When the waitress had brought the food, and left again, Sam looked around to see if anyone would notice. The he reached into his pocket at carefully lifted Y/N out. 

She jumped from his hand onto the table, landing with a tiny oof. “What now?” she muttered, sliding down to sit on the spoon Dean had turned upside down for her. 

“Dunno,” Dean grinned, unable to keep a straight face from the absurdity. “We finish this case, I guess. And then…” 

“Yeah. Just have to talk to the sheriff. He’s bound to know where it all began,” Sam said with a lopsided smile. “Imagine the –“ He didn’t get any further, because the diner cat chose that exact moment to jump up on the table.

For a few moments everything stood still: its eyes were locked in on Y/N, and its tail swishing ominously back and forth before it crouched low, ready to pounce.

“Shit!” Sam had never moved so fast before, slamming his hand over Y/N like a cage, trapping her under his fingers. The cat swatted at his hand, and meowed miserably when Dean lifted it off the table.

Once the cat had slunk away around the corner, Sam lifted his hand. Y/N stared at him with large, watery eyes. “I want back in your pocket.”

He nodded and offered his hand; she climbed in and on her way up, she spotted the cat sitting on the counter, swishing its tail and eyeing her hungrily.

She didn’t come back out again before Sam announced that he had to use the restroom again, but she kept close to Dean’s hand in case anything happened, and when Sam got back, she was laughing at some joke Dean had made.

“That’s right, gotta stay positive,” he said, smiling gently. “You might be small, but at least you’re adorable like this.”

“That I am,” she agreed, hoping she was too small for them to notice the blush creeping over her face.

“Hey! How come he can call you adorable, but when I do it, it results in a nasty bite?” Dean held his hand against the light and squinted at the tiny, red bite mark. ”I should probably get it checked out. Maybe even get a tetanus shot.”

“Because,” Y/N said, deciding to hide the truth in plain sight, “I actually like him. You on the other hand are like the annoying brother I never wanted.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dean countered.

“Takes one to know one.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled, but before any sound had a chance to escape, he was silenced by a deadly stare from Y/N. “Come on,” he grinned, “you gotta admit it’s pretty funny. Badass hunter Y/N that fits in the palm of my hand and gets carried around in a pocket?”

“I’m tiny, but I reckon I could still take you in a fight,” she spat back, but her eyes twinkled with humour.

“She’s right, you know.” Sam grimaced to his brother and winked at Y/N before getting up to pay for the meal.

“Great! Gang up on me!” Dean huffed, holding up his hands. “I can squeeze you with my thumb. You’d end up as a stain on the table.”

Y/N nodded sideways once. “You’d have to catch me first.”

“Nah. Ain’t worth the hassle. Sam would never shut up about it.”

“Whatever you say.” She stuck her tongue out and kicked his hand before running and hiding behind the ketchup bottle.

“You’re a very violent person, Y/N,” Dean teased. He’d barely felt the kick. “Always threatening to kick my ass. Come to think of it, you never do that to Sam.” He gave her a shit-eating grin and winked, to which Y/N replied by sticking her tongue out again. 

“That’s because you deserve it, and he usually doesn’t. But I’d take you both in a fight.” Drawing her hands up in a classic fighting stance, she swayed back and forth on her toes.

Dean chuckled and patted her head with one finger. “Aw, isn’t that cute? I think you got a case of small dog syndrome.”

“Nyehnyehnyeh… You’re just jealous because I’m so much awesomer than you.” She sounded confident, but inside she felt like hiding, so she did: sliding down behind the ketchup bottle again. 

Picking her up, Dean was about talk, when he was interrupted by a high voice that cut into their ears from the other side of the room: “Pretty dolly!”

As if by instinct, Y/N stiffened in Dean’s hand. 

The little girl, towing her mother behind her, jumped up and down and craned her neck to see better.

“Yes, honey, it is,” her mother replied absentmindedly, petting her daughter’s head gently, but not looking up from her phone.

“I want it.”

The mother sighed and looked at Dean. “Sir, how much for the doll?”

“What?”

“My daughter would like to buy the doll you’ve got there. How. Much. Do. You. Want. For. It?” She enunciated every syllable as if she thought he was stupid. She probably did.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, growing impatient and more than a little annoyed. “It’s not for sale. Not at all. The doll is an heirloom in my family, and we’re not letting it go. Not for no amount of money.” He made a big deal out of wrapping up the “doll” and putting it in his jacket.

Every sound was muted by the wrap, so Y/N couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but it didn’t matter, because the only thing she really could focus on was the blood rushing in her ears and the thudding of her heart, and when Dean let her know it was safe to come out again, Y/N let out a huge sigh of relief. Not that she actually thought he’d sell her as a doll, but for a fraction of a second the ugly creature in her brain reared its head and told her that the Winchesters were better off without her. And she had to agree. What good was she to them like this?

“Thank you,” she muttered, sliding off Dean’s palm onto the table.

“For what?”

Blushing and feeling exceptionally stupid, she shook her head. “For not selling me.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, almost tipping over with laughter. “As attempting as it was,” he said once he got his breath back, “you’re not really a doll. It’d be false advertising.” Flinching from an expected slap or sting that never came, he sobered quickly. All he got in response was a feeble heh. “Hey, you didn’t really think…”

Y/N shook her head and looked at the french fry on the plate. 

“Because you know I would never… You’re family. I can’t get rid of my favourite adopted sister, can I? Who am I gonna fight with then? Sam ain’t a fair fight – I’d kick his ass in a heartbeat. At least you leave me with a challenge before I kick your ass.”

Looking up, she pursed her lips into a stiff smile. “In your dreams, Winchester. I’d beat you anytime, anywhere.”

Leaning closer to her, Dean winked and whispered: “I know. Just don’t tell Sam I said that. I’ll never admit it.” After a small, silent pause he cocked his head slightly. “You okay?”

“Not really,” she replied truthfully. “But I will be. I think.”

When Sam returned to the table, he scooped up Y/N and dropped her quickly into his pocket again. “That damned cat is eyeing you again,” he muttered. “What kinda diner has a cat anyway?”

“Right, I’m not leaving your pocket until we find a cure,” Y/N sighed. It really was the only place she felt safe. In Sam’s pocket she didn’t have to worry about the world outside; no bugs, no prying eyes, no predators that wanted to eat her, and best of all: no real reminders of how utterly useless she was. In Sam’s pocket she could let the pleasant warmth and his intoxicating scent wash over her and lull her into a calm bubble.

“Come on,” Dean said. “Let’s go interview the witness before our… appointment… with the sheriff.”

 

The sheriff was late. They’d waited for almost an hour before he finally showed up with no explanation, and no apology, and Dean was ready to punch a man.  
“Good afternoon,” the sheriff said and stifled a yawn. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” He was trying to sound tough, but failed miserably. Clearly he just wanted to go home.

Dean flashed his fake badge and put on his best persona. Y/N wisely kept well out of sight in Sam’s pocket, peeking through the tiny hole in the seam.

While the Winchesters played their parts and got the sheriff talking, Y/N let her gaze wander through the room, not really paying attention until her eyes fell upon a poster with a very familiar face. Her stomach fell, and she clutched the lining of the pocket in frustration that she couldn’t say anything.

On the desk of one of the officers who’d gone home for the day, were a folder and a printed photo of Dean and Sam. Luckily, the photo was older, and the brothers looked nothing like their professional selves, but still: it posed a considerable risk to work in a town where the law was supposed to keep an eye out for you.

Back in the car, she spoke up. “Uh, guys? Did you see the folder on the desk by the window?”

“No, why?”

“Um… How do I say this nicely… You’re wanted.”

“Aw, that’s nice of you,” Dean teased. “Yeah, we’re wanted. Comes with the job,” he added, more seriously.

“Well, they have your photo. And a folder marked with your names on it.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, Sam swore.

“I know,” Y/N continued. “We gotta do something. Think we can break in and steal it or something?”

Dean nodded. “Probably. But it won’t do any good. Pretty sure they can just print out the photo and information again.”

“Yeah, but it might give us some time to finish this case,” Y/N finished with a satisfied nod.

“I agree,” Sam said. “We can go back tonight, after we salt and burn the…”

“Sure. Let’s break into the police station to steal a bunch of papers,” Dean muttered. “Great idea.” 

 

Accompanied with the information from the police, it took them just a couple of hours of digging through old newspaper archives and good old fashioned thinking to find out who the unfortunate poltergeist was, and after just an hour of digging and sweating and swearing, the skeletal remains were covered in dancing flames, and the three of them were heading back into town. Y/N sat comfortably in the hood on Sam’s sweater, and Dean was whistling behind the wheel. They decided to go straight to the station, and not stop at the motel for supplies; being more than ready to get it over with.

Fortune was on their side when they discovered that the window was open just a few inches, but it soon turned out to be more difficult than they’d thought.

Dean grunted with frustration. The window was impossible to pry open. “Back to the drawing board,” he muttered, sinking down on the pile of boxes. “What now? Think we should try the front door?” He fished in his pocket for a lock pick.

Y/N poked her head from Sam’s hood. “Let me try,” she said with poorly disguised glee. Maybe she could actually be of some help. “I fit under there. And the file is just on the desk, see?” 

“It’s too heavy. You won’t be able to carry it back to the window.”

She thought for a bit, then tugged on the string in the hood. “Tie this around me. That way you can pull me back.”

“That’s… actually a great idea,” Sam agreed, offering his thumb up for a high five. “You’re a genius!”

She blushed, but puffed up, taking every bit of praise from Sam to heart, feeling bigger than she had in ages.


	7. Flying high

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean stumbles over a solution - but can it really be that simple?

They needed two attempts before the folder cooperated, but finally Y/N managed to get a good enough grip on the slippery paper, clinging to it with both arms and feet as Sam pulled her back to the window.

As Dean flipped through the information, tutting and shaking his head, Sam lifted Y/N up so she was level with his face. “Seriously,” he said with an adorable smile, “we couldn’t have done this without you.” He leaned forward and touched his nose to her head. “This will give us just enough time to get everything done before we have to hide again.”

“Nah, it was nothing,” Y/N said, but the smile on her face never faltered. The feeling of being needed expanded in her chest.

“Um, guys…?” Dean interrupted, pointing to the road. A set of bright headlights moved slowly in their direction. “Time to make ourselves scarce.”

Sam dropped Y/N into his pocket, and Dean picked up a piece of paper that had fallen to the ground, and they made their way quickly, but silently, back to the car.  
Almost back to the motel, Sam put his hand over the pocket, pinning Y/N to his chest. “Sit still, please. It tickles when you move around like that.”

“What? I’m not moving.”

“Well, whatever you’re doing… it tickles,” he said, letting her go.

Frowning, Y/N folded her arms across her chest and slid down to the bottom of the pocket. “Sorry. I’ll just not do what I wasn’t doing. Or you could just let me up on your shoulder.”

She would never get over that weird, slightly scary feeling of having a huge hand loom over her and block the light before picking her up and lifting her through the air like a swing – even if that hand belonged to Sam Winchester, and she knew it would never intentionally hurt her. But she had never been one for rollercoasters and amusement parks, and that dip in her stomach always made her slightly queasy. And she really didn’t wanna throw up in Sam’s hair.

But once on his shoulder, the nausea disappeared, and she enjoyed the feeling of freedom. And the warmth from Sam’s skin, and his intoxicating scent, of course – she alive and breathing after all. 

Back at the motel, Sam put her down on the table, and picked up the folder they’d so kindly relieved the police of. As he paced back and forth to get rid of the nervous energy in his legs, he flicked through the report. “Jeez,” he sighed. They could at least use good pictures. And… Have you seen this, Dean? This isn’t even… ‘…with psychopathic tendencies…’ Who wrote this? Oh… at least they got something right: ‘highly intelligent, and dangerous’…” Sam burst out laughing. “You think they have a template where they just fill in key words?”

Dean didn’t really listen to his brother’s outburst. He was more interested in what was going on on the table. “Hey, Sammy, will you shut up for just a second?” Sam’s mouth remained open, like he was about to give his brother a lethal rant, but before he could even think of a fitting insult, Dean continued: “Take a look at this.”

Four eyes were locked on Y/N, who huffed and threw her arms out to the side. “What?”

Dean didn’t answer her. Instead, he picked her up and weighed her in his hand before passing her to Sam, who blinked and bounced her up and down. “Huh…”

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Y/N clung to Sam’s thumb as he sat her back down.

“Um,” Dean hummed, struggling to find the right words. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, Y/N, but you feel heavier. I mean; you probably only weigh an ounce and a half right now, but I’m pretty sure you weighed closer to one this morning.”

Sam nodded. “You know, I think you’re growing. Look, yeah, you can reach to the top of the fake plant now if you stretch.”

Her eyes sparkled with the thought. “Really?”

“Really,” Sam beamed at her.

“It’s definitely going in the right direction. But it’s going slow,” Dean added.

Y/N’s shoulders slumped forward. Sitting down on the table with her legs crossed, she sighed. She was so tired of being small, of being useless.

“Shit, no, no, no, no… You’re shrinking again. Look, Dean!” Sam put his hand on her shoulders as if that would stop the process, pulling her to her feet in one swift motion.

“Great! I can’t even grow properly!” Y/N’s voice was flat and weary, and she rubbed her eyes with long, slow movements.

In a whirlwind of arms and legs and swears, Sam gathered his laptop and the bowl, and threw on a clean flannel.

Dean and Y/N followed him with their eyes. “Hey, where are you going?”

“The internet café. There’s no fucking signal here.”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dean, now. We solved the case, and now it’s time to focus on her,” he said, pointing in Y/N’s general direction. “She’s waited long enough, don’t you think?”

“Here,” Dean nodded, tossing the car keys to Sam and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

“Drive carefully,” Y/N added with a small wave of her hand, sinking back down on the table, hiding her head in her hands. 

When Dean came back, almost an hour later with steam billowing through the bathroom door, she’d had more than enough time to sink deep down into the darkest corner of her brain. “Look at me,” she muttered, not particularly caring to hide her misery. “I’m useless. Only thing I’m good for is a quick snack for the diner cat.”

“Hey now, that’s not true,” Dean said, surprising her with the tenderness in his voice. “You’re the reason we got our hands on that report, remember? If we hadn’t, we’d be so screwed now. The authorities –“ he spat the word as if it tasted vile “– would be on our tail, or at the very least, the sheriff would’ve noticed us. And I’m not in the mood to punch his greasy face, though,” he added with a wink, “he deserves it. He was an asshole.”

A small smile spread from Y/N’s eyes, and she nodded slowly. “You’re right. But still, I’m not much use like this. Gah! I just wanna be me again. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super grateful for all you help, I really am, but it does something to a girl having to be dependent on someone even for the most trivial stuff. Like… like getting out of the goddamn bed!”

“I know, I know,” Dean replied. “It sucks. But we’re working on it. Sam’s easily the smartest person in this town. He’ll figure it out. We just gotta make the best of things until then.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone rang. “Talk to me,” he said, holding the phone with his shoulder while he opened a new beer. “Wait, hold on. Lemme put you on speaker. Bet Y/N wanna hear too.” He put the phone down on the table.

“Yeah,” said Sam. “Hey, Y/N. It was a challenge, but I managed to translate the writing, the spell – I think.”

Dean pulled up a photo of the cracked bowl on his laptop and squinted at the pattern around the edge. “I swear, he’s like the biggest nerd out there,” he whispered with a scrunchy smile. Y/N giggled silently.

“What?” Sam asked. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Nothing. Go on.”

Y/N could picture the perfect bitchface Sam must have given his phone, because his voice was short and hard when he spoke again. “Right. The first two symbols are just for strengthening purposes. To make sure the spell sticks, I mean. And the rest… Well, it’s not perfect,” he said, his voice becoming more and more apologetic. “The language is formal and stilted, but I think I get the gist of it.”

In the background they heard the sound of papers rustling and a pen scratching over a hard surface. “This is what’s written on the bowl. Kinda hard to copy because of the chipped paint and crack from where it hit the floor, but…”

“Yeah, yeah. What does it say?”

“Right, so… this is what I’ve come up with: The beginning says you who receive – or it could be steal, no, I’m pretty sure it’s receive this blessing – or it could be curse, apparently they used the same word just with different pronunciations, will stay in your mind’s- brain?, not sure about that one, dimensions. That last word could be an abbreviation, and in that case it’s about making sunflowers grow…”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Y/N said with a weak smile that didn’t reach her eyes at all.

“…so I doubt it is,” Sam continued, too excited to pay attention. “But get this: I did a bit of digging and found a similar line in a novelty spell from the 70’s.”

Dean growled. “Goddamn hippies!”

“Yeah. So it’s a growth spell – or more specific: a shrinking spell. That much we knew, right? Says here on the website that the effects last until the receiver has grown back to his or her original size.”

“Great! How do we do that?”

“Don’t say.”

“What?” Dean turned towards the miserable outburst from Y/N. “So I’m stuck like this?”

“For now. But we’ll find a cure. I promise.”

“Jesus!” Dean sighed, shaking his head tiredly. “See? This is why I can’t stand witches. At least with a werewolf you know it wants to eat you.”

Sam agreed. “Uh-huh, but now we know what we’re dealing with, sorta. But listen… I’ve copied down as much as I could, we can go over it again when I get back. Three heads think better than one.”

“Sure,” Y/N groaned. “I guess.”

“Hey, Sammy? Pick up some food on the way back, will ya? I’m starving.”

Sam chuckled. “Always thinking with your stomach, huh? Yeah, I’ll see what I can find. The diner’s closed I think, but maybe there’s a Domino’s or something.”

With the promise of something to fill his growling belly, Dean plopped down on his bed and switched on the TV. Y/N decided to smarten up a bit before dinner.  
About ten minutes later, though, she was in trouble. “Uh… Dean, can you help me please?” There was almost no power in her voice, and the fact that she was stuck in a Barbie dress didn’t make things easier. With every wriggle, the velcro ate a little more of her hair, and it was beginning to get painful.

She tried one last time: bent her neck even more, the awkward angle starting to sting seriously. “Hey, Dean,” she said again, with more force this time. Still no reaction. Was she really that invisible? “Yo! Dean! A little help here? Before I choke to death in a frilly dress!” she bellowed, breathing hard to keep the volume up.

Dean whipped around, knocking his silver knife off the bedside table, worry in his eyes and a half-chewed pen still in his mouth. “Jesus Christ, Y/N! What happened?” he muttered, hurrying over to help her.

“Got stuck is what happened,” she replied, combing through her hair once he’d untangled her from the dress.

“I can see that,” he chuckled. “You said you’d rather be dead than be seen in that dress, if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to dress up a little.” Pouting, she pulled the dress on properly, and motioned for Dean to close the velcro. “It’s nice to… I don’t now, feel pretty sometimes, you know.”

Dean stared at her. “Okay, who you tryin’ to impress? I know for a fact it ain’t me. Only one who isn’t here is Sammy, so…”

Willing the heat away from her face and failing spectacularly, Y/N stuck her tongue out. “Shut up!” 

“Oh ho!” He grinned so widely his cheeks threatened to split, voice filled with glee, and he gave her a cheeky look. “It suits you. The dress. But you know you don’t have to dress up for Sammy to like you, right? He’s pretty much doomed already.”

“ ‘m not doing it for him,” she protested, but the butterflies in her belly told her otherwise. And Dean’s statement, however fake it might have been, made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, like she was floating on air.

“Holy shit!” Dean exclaimed, any humour instantly gone from his voice.

“What?” The elation deflated, leaving her feeling raw and vulnerable.

“You just… I mean, maybe this is… Gotta go double check.” He returned tot the table and sifted through the notes Sam had left behind, muttering to himself. “Phone… Where did I put… Sam’s gonna go ballistic… So obvious! Come on! Where…”

Y/N ignored the rest of his muttering. It made no sense anyway. Instead she swirled in front of the hand mirror she’d convinced them to put up. Dean was right. The dress was a bit too big, but it suited her.

“You’re adorable,” Dean said, keeping his distance so he wouldn’t get hurt.

“So you’ve said…” Y/N replied with a lopsided smile. She was surprised she didn’t mind him saying so as much as before. Maybe it was the promise of a cure looming on the horizon, or maybe it was the feeling of the frilly dress swishing around her ankles, but she felt good.

“It’s true,” Dean continued, daring a few steps closer so he could sit down. “And Sam is crazy about you – uh, he’s probably gonna kill me for saying it – I mean it,” he added in response to the sceptical look she gave him. “Hell, even I would give it a go if you weren’t so damn annoying all the time.” Dean winked and leaned back just as Sam came back with two large pizza boxes.

“You’re not helping, Dean,” Y/N replied with a sad huff. “I appreciate you trying to make me feel better, but lying like that…”

“What’s he lying about now?” Sam asked over his shoulder, fetching napkins and something to drink. 

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Not lying,” he said indignantly. 

Y/N became a mosaic of pink splotches, and her skin burned like she’d been dipped in chilli powder. “Uh… he was just trying to make me feel better about this whole situation,” she began, stuffing a tiny piece of pepperoni in her mouth to delay the inevitable humiliation. “By kinda *munch* implying that you *munch* uh, arecrazyaboutme.” She finished silently and as fast as she could get the words out of her mouth, and took a long drink to hide her embarrassment and disappointment; despite her best efforts, what Dean said kindled a small flicker of hope in her, decimating her hard work at keeping her own feelings under wraps.

“Not implying anything. Also: not lying,” Dean repeated, stuffing his face with pizza.

Sam sat completely still for about three whole seconds before carefully putting down his slice and wiping his hands clean. His mouth twitched, and his skin was becomingly pink, and the look he gave his brother contained both daggers and poison. 

“My brother is an excellent liar,” he said, silently communicating a I’m gonna kill you later to Dean, “but on this occasion he told you the truth. I am very… you mean so much to me. However,” he added with an apologetic smile before returning with another hard glare at Dean, “this was not the way I wanted you to find out.”

Dean just grinned and nodded sideways at Y/N, clearly wanting Sam to notice, but he didn’t. He was too preoccupied with gnawing on his thumb and looking anywhere but at her.

With a wave of his hand, Dean stopped Sam. “Say it again.”

“What? That you’re a liar and– ?”

“No, no, the… the other one.”

The rosy pink spread further over Sam’s face and down his neck. “Um… That Y/N is –“

“No, not to me, you dumbass. Say it to her.”

Y/N looked between the two of them, understanding next to nothing, and liking it even less.

Sam looked like he was about to die of embarrassment. “Christ! Um… Y/N… I really… REALLY like you, and I wanted to, um… Holy shit!” he interrupted himself, gaping at her. 

Y/N was growing. Slowly at first, but with every word Sam uttered, she gained a little height. Soon she had grown three inches and the dress she was wearing was starting to split in the seam.

“Here.” Sam offered his flannel shirt, draping it gently around her tiny shoulders, almost drowning her in soft plaid. “That dress was cute on you, but I think it’s a bit small now,” he said with a wink.

Excitement coursed through Y/N. Sam was flirting with her – actually flirting, and she was growing, feeling more and more like her old self again. It was a high that kept her floating on clouds. Right now she could take anything the world could throw at her.

Growing bolder, Y/N scooted to the edge of the table and put her hand on Sam’s. “Things don’t always happen according to plan, you know. Maybe we should thank Dean – I had planned on pining after you for the rest of my life, because how could you possibly have feelings for someone like me?” 

“How could I not?” he replied, ignoring Dean’s irritating and exciting coos. “You’re brilliant. You’re smarter than me, and Dean (Hey, speak for yourself!), I love talking with you. Whenever you start on a topic you’re excited about it’s like you’re bubbling: always bouncing up and down and waving your arms around. It’s adorable. No one has taught me more stuff than you have. And you’re funny as hell. How many crappy motel nights disappeared into fits of laughter? And your laughter sets fire to my soul. You keep me above the water, Y/N.”

As he spoke again, she grew faster and faster, beaming from his praise, and savouring the butterflies in her chest.

“Be careful so she doesn’t outgrow her size,” Dean muttered with a bright smile, but nobody listened to him.

Sam shook his head gently. “You challenge me and make me laugh, and you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I wish you could see yourself the way I do. Don’t think I haven’t noticed when you stand in front of the mirror and criticise every inch of yourself. Please stop doing that! It breaks my heart, seeing you so insecure. But now… Not a day will pass without telling you how much you mean to me, and I hope you will listen. Listen and believe it. I can’t lie to you, and you know it.”

When finally stopped talking, Y/N looked up. Her eyes were shining brightly, and she gave him a sly smile, jumping down from the table, quickly buttoning her shirt. She bent down closer to him. The heat from his skin caressed hers, and she exhaled slowly as he came even closer. In her chest her heart beat so hard she could hear it clearly.

“Ew!” Dean exclaimed, blowing a raspberry and getting to his feet, grabbing a slice of pizza. “I definitely didn’t think this through. You’re gonna get all lovey and gross now, aren’t you? I’m gonna go hide in the bathroom until it’s over. Come get me when it’s safe.”

Sighing, Sam leaned back in his chair. “Way to go, Dean. You’re gonna pay for that,” he added menacingly before pulling Y/N down on his lap and putting his arms around her. He couldn’t resist burying his face in her hair like he’d dreamed about so many times. “Let’s just eat the pizza while it’s still warm-ish. And then you can go book a room for yourself. I don’t want you here to interrupt anything else.”

Dean faked a look of disgust, making Y/N giggle loudly, and just to be evil, she left a trail of feathery kisses down Sam’s neck. “Yeah, Dean. Get your own room. But first: where’s that beer you promised me?”


End file.
